


Handler

by cosmiccrumbs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Gen, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmiccrumbs/pseuds/cosmiccrumbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier decides he needs a handler.  He picks Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handler

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for an anonymous prompt from the Hydra Trash Meme. See the endnotes for the prompt.

It really hadn’t taken long for the Soldier to recognize the unpleasant smell that hit his nostrils when the wind hit him wrong as emanating from his own body. While he avoided people as much as possible, those who did smell him made disgusted, scrunched up faces. The Soldier wasn’t sure how he was causing the smell or how to fix it.

There were numerous other small problems that he couldn’t manage to fix either. The ache in his stomach, the dryness in his mouth, the soreness in his feet. He vaguely remembers occasionally feeling these things before, but his handlers had always taken care of it. These mundane tasks had never been his concern. The technicians had used tubes and needles to take care of some of the maintenance, while he had been periodically hosed or sponged down. Once, in a gas station bathroom, he had tried washing himself but only managed to soak his clothing. In frustration, he had shattered the mirror with his metal hand before quickly leaving.

A little more than a week after dragging Steve from the Potomac, the Soldier had spotted an advertisement for the Smithsonian exhibit prominently featuring Captain America’s face. Dotted through the brochure were a few pictures of artifacts or the faces of other Howling Commandos. The Soldier recognized none of the faces but Steve’s.

Sneaking into the museum and finding the exhibit had been no major problem for him. His stared transfixed for almost fifteen minutes as the sign showing pre- and post-serum Steve, a few memories of a shabby Brooklyn apartment trickling in that he dismissed. He dragged himself away to look at the rest of the exhibit.

By this time, the Soldier had seen his face in the mirror numerous times. What he hadn’t expected was to see a black and white video clip of Steve, his arm slung around a younger looking, well groomed Winter Soldier. Before Hydra, he had had another handler, the Soldier decided. Steve. Since his most recent handlers could not or would not be found, the Soldier thought that it might be best to return to any handler that he could find at all. There was a brief conflict in his head. His most recent handlers had wanted Steve dead. But, Steve had been his handler even before HYDRA. Perhaps Steve had given the Solder to HYDRA? Brief flashes of Russian commands being hissed at him dismissed that idea.

In the end, the Soldier decided that any handler was better than no handler. He needed maintenance in order to be fixed so that he could return to missions.

Finding Steve’s new apartment in D.C. while it had taken a little time, it hadn’t been terribly difficult. The Soldier snuck into the building and stood in front of Steve’s door. He was tempted to turn around and try to find HYDRA again – their punishment if they found him returning to a handler who was an enemy of his current handlers and also his previous mission would be immense pain. The Soldier steeled himself and firmly knocked three times with his flesh hand.

When the door opened, there stood Steve, mouth slightly agape. “Bucky,” he said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It didn’t matter to the Soldier what he was called. No questions or orders had been given so Bucky continued standing in the hallway outside Steve’s apartment, silent.

“Come in, come in. Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Steve said, pulling Bucky in by the arm the closing the door. Bucky stood in the entryway of the apartment, waiting for orders. He understood that being hungry meant you required food and that thirsty meant you required water, but he wasn’t sure how to relate this information to himself. If it was important it would be explained in the mission briefing.

“Um, would you like to take a shower?” Steve asks cautiously, unsure how to explain to Bucky that he smelled disgusting.

Bucky knew what a shower was, but he didn’t understand the concept of liking things. He was a weapon. The only thing he might be able to say he liked was firing appropriately and efficiently.

“Yes, okay, bath it is,” Steve decides after a few moments of silence. He turns to walk through the living room to the short hallway that had the bed and bathroom off of it. “Follow me.”

Finally having an order, Bucky follows Steve, a respectable distance behind him. When they reach the bathroom, Bucky stops in the doorway and watched as Steve begins running the bath, dipping his hand into the water periodically. “When I leave, you can take your clothes off and get in the tub. Just wash yourself up. I’ll put some clean clothes on the counter for you.”

“Further instruction required, sir,” Bucky stated, not sure what exactly washing himself up entailed.

Steve blinked a couple times at Steve. “Um,” Steve stuttered. “You rub the soap on the cloth and then rub it on your body. You don’t need to call me ‘sir.’” He gestured to the bar of white soap on the side of the tub and a washcloth on the bathroom counter.

Bucky decided that a demonstration would not be required. Sometimes with new instructions one was needed. “Understood, sir.” A suggestion was not an order. He would not be tricked into disobedience.

“Okay, well, just take as long as you need,” Steve said, turning the water off and standing up from his crouch. He awkwardly shuffled around Bucky and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Bucky stripped his clothes off leaving them in a pile on the floor. He stepped over the side of the tub and was surprised to find that the water was warm. He slowly sank into the water. He dipped the cloth into the water before taking the bar of soap and rubbing it on the cloth until the cloth was sufficiently soapy. He started with his forehead and gradually worked his way down his body, adding more soap as needed. The water and cloth gradually turned dirty.

About halfway through washing, Steve knocked on the door. Bucky held his breath, and frantically scrubbed, trying to finish washing himself up. Steve had said he would have as long as he needed, but perhaps the time frame had changed. “I’m just going to put these on the counter for you. There’s a towel there to dry off with too,” Steve said, opening the door just enough to reach his arm through with the clothes. The door promptly closes and Bucky releases his breath, going back to washing at a more reasonable pace.

Deciding he had washed up enough, Bucky stepped out of the tub dripping water on the floor. He took the towel and dried his body off. While he wasn’t sure what the small tight looking shorts were, Bucky decided they were meant to go under his pants for layering purposes. He put the soft loose pants on next along with the tee shirt and socks. This wasn’t tactical gear. Even during maintenance he usually had his tactical pants and shoes on at least. It was not his place to question his handler.

Leaving his towel and dirty clothes in a heap on the floor, Bucky left the bathroom and found Steve in the kitchen sitting at the table. Bucky stood quietly to the side, awaiting more orders.

“Feeling better? What would you like to eat?” Steve asked, standing up and flitting to the refrigerator. “I don’t really have a lot in here actually. We have some yogurt, lettuce, a couple apples, and lunch meats.” He looked over at Bucky. “I think there’s soup or stuff for spaghetti in the cupboards.”

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“What have you been eating since…? Well, what did you eat with…. Them?” Steve hesitantly asked.

“I did not eat, sir,” Bucky simply stated, watching Steve’s face tighten in a small frown. Bucky was slightly afraid that his displeasing answer might earn him a punishment. But it was the truth.

“Alright, I think we should have some soup then. It won’t take long to heat up.” Steve hurried over to the cupboard and muttered the various kinds to himself, finally settling on chicken noodle. “You can sit down at the table while I do this. Do you want something to drink?

Bucky did not want anything except to be an efficient weapon and remained silent as he obeyed Steve’s order to sit at the table. He listened to the sounds of a can opener and the pouring of the soup into the pan. There was several clicks as the stove turned on. A glass of water was deposited in front of Bucky and Steve settled heavily into the next chair.

They sat in silence Steve looking at Bucky; Bucky looking vaguely straight ahead, not paying attention to anything and staying just aware enough to hear if an order was given.

Steve cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to drink that Buck?”

This was a game Bucky knew. It was an attempt into goading him to do something he hadn’t exactly been given permission for and then there would be the opportunity to punish him for disobedience. “Only if you give me permission, sir.”

The look Steve gave him had Bucky thinking over his behavior and speech in the last several minutes trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Nothing was coming to mind that would put such a look on Steve’s face.

“Bucky, you can have whatever you want. You don’t need my permission to drink water. You can drink it whenever you want. You can eat whenever you want. You aren’t with HYDRA anymore,” Steve implored.

“You wish for me to consume water when I deem it appropriate, sir? What are appropriate times, sir?” Bucky said, giving his focus to Steve. He had been allowed to make many of his own decisions in the field, within certain parameters of course. Bucky saw this the same way.

“Yes Bucky. And you shouldn’t call me sir. You drink when you are thirsty.”

“What should you be called instead? How will I know when I am ‘thirsty’?” He had a few handlers who preferred being called things other than “sir.” Some preferred being called “master.”

“You can just call me Steve. Or nothing at all,” Steve quickly said before pausing. “Thirsty is when your mouth is dry.”

“I am thirsty now, Steve,” Bucky said, replacing the “sir” with “Steve.”

“Then go ahead and drink Bucky. And from now, you should drink water whenever you feel thirsty,” Steve insisted.

He watched closely as Bucky picked the glass off the table and sipped down the water. Bucky drank about half the glass in one go. When he set the water back down, Steve stood up to check on the soup. A few minutes later he returned to the table and set a bowl and spoon in front of Bucky and one in front of his own seat. Noticing Bucky’s water glass was empty, he refilled it and brought a glass for himself to the table.

“Go ahead and eat Bucky,” Steve said. “Slowly.”

Bucky picked the spoon up and began eating, going at a speed he hoped was slow enough, but not too slow. He savored the taste of the soup, though it was a surprise on his tongue, having only tasted blood and his own saliva for so long. After watching Bucky for a few bites, Steve began to eat his own soup.

“Why did you come here Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky set his spoon down in the bowel and looked at Steve. He thought the reasoning was obvious. “You are the only handler I could find, Steve.”

“Oh.”

They both resumed eating in silence. Soon the soup was gone. Steve took all the dishes to the sink and rinsed them before placing them in the dishwasher. After closing the machine, he turned around and leaned against the counter looking at Bucky. Bucky peered back awaiting his next orders. He assumed that they were doing maintenance. Since Steve’s version was so different that his previous handlers, he wasn’t positive at what part of the procedure they were at. He also wasn’t sure if he was to be prepped for freezing or for another mission. There was one very obvious portion of his maintenance that had yet to occur.

“I guess we could go watch a movie or something,” Steve suggested. “Come with me.” He seemed tentative issuing the order. He was trying to make it sound as little like an order as he could. Bucky had seen the behavior in new recruits around him. Bucky had thought that Steve having been his handler before would not have this problem.

In the living room Steve directed Bucky to sit on the couch while Steve put a movie on the T.V. Bucky paid close attention to the film, figuring it might be crucial to his next mission. He noticed that Steve kept glancing at him throughout the film. Bucky made sure to keep an ear out for orders while trying to memorize as much of the movie as he could.

When the film was over, Steve turned the T.V. off and decided that it was bed time. He found a new toothbrush for Bucky and demonstrated how to use it. Steve emptied the bathtub. They brushed their teeth side by side. While Steve headed to his room carrying Bucky’s dirty clothes and towel, Bucky moved back towards the kitchen as he felt thirsty again.

“Bucky?” Steve asked following him back to the kitchen and tracking his movements as he found a glass and filled it was water from the tap. “What are you doing?”

“I was thirsty, Steve. I am following orders, Steve,” Bucky said turning to face Steve as he drank down all the water from the full glass.

“That’s very good. You can just set the glass in the sink,” Steve said eyeing the empty glass. There was a smile on his face. “Ready for bed?”

“Yes, Steve.” They both headed to Steve’s bedroom, Steve placing the dirty laundry in the hamper.

Bucky’s eyes were instantly drawn to the tub of Vaseline on the bedside table. This was a part of his maintenance that he could remember. He didn’t need to ask for explanation how this part was to proceed. A ringing filled the apartment.

“Go ahead and lay down Bucky while I go take care of that,” Steve said leaving the bedroom again.

Bucky nodded his head and laid on top of the blankets. He rolled onto his side and slid his pants down before flipping open the top of the Vaseline tub. Using his human hand, he dipped his first two fingers into the stickiness. He reached around his body and slowly pressed the first finger past the tight ring of muscle. He let it rest there for a short moment to warm the Vaseline. He wasn’t sure how long he would be given to do this and he knew he wanted to be sufficiently prepared. He began to move his finger in and out, not removing it from his body. His cock had begun to fill with blood. When he felt prepared, he added a second finger. It had been a little while since he had done this, and he was tighter than he had expected.

“That was just Sam calling to check- What are you doing Bucky?” Steve asked, freezing in the doorway, cell phone in one hand and a look of horror on his face.

“Maintenance, Steve. Anal preparation, Steve.” Bucky continued to work his fingers in his hole, stretching himself open, scissoring the two fingers gently. He was almost ready for a third finger.

“No, you really don’t need to do that kind of thing,” Steve insisted, still frozen in the doorway.

“It is necessary, Steve.” He slipped the third finger in.

“Bucky, please…” Steve’s eyes were still locked on Bucky, watching his arm move in a rhythmic motion.

“I am to be fucked, Steve. This is not a punishment and therefore tearing is not desirable, Steve. I am nearly sufficiently stretched Steve.”

“Jesus, Buck… I’m not having sex with you.”

It was not always the same handler who fucked Bucky. It varied. Some of the agents had seen it as a reward, from what Bucky could tell. Steve had mentioned a “Sam” calling to check on something when he entered the room. Bucky stilled his hand and removed it. He took a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped his fingers clean. “I am ready, Steve, for whoever is fucking me.” He finished removing his pants moved to position himself on his hands and knees. It was a position commonly, but not exclusively used.

“Bucky. No,” Steve said firmly. “Put your pants back on. No one is having sex with you tonight.”

Bucky immediately complied putting his pants back on, trying to keep a look of confusion and panic from showing on his features. This was a necessary component of maintenance. His handler was supposed to deal with the maintenance so that he could be efficient on missions. “Sir, without proper maintenance I won’t be as efficient on missions.”

With Bucky safely back in his pants, Steve heads over to the bed and sits down next to Bucky. “You think I’m going to send you on missions?”

“That’s what handlers do, sir.”

“I’m not your handler Buck.”

Steve let out a long sigh. “You do not need to have sex to be healthy Bucky. Okay? We’re going to go to sleep now. We can talk more about this tomorrow, alright?”

Bucky paused for a moment, processing the new information. “Yes, sir.” That’s when he seemed to remember that Steve was not supposed to be called “sir.” “Are you going to punish me for calling you ‘sir,’ Steve?”

“No, Bucky, I’m not going to punish you for anything.”

Bucky was surprised. With his previous handlers, even minor misbehaviors were grievously punished, usually as soon as possible. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve gave Bucky a tight lipped smile before moving to turn the bedroom light off and go to the other side of the bed. “Climb under the covers.”

Bucky shuffled around, crawling under the blankets, and resting his head on the pillow. Steve laid down a respectful distance away.

“Goodnight Bucky.”

“Goodnight Steve.”

There was silence except for their breathing, and the hum of the vents. “You are allowed to sleep.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written in years, but I have written a lot of papers in the meantime. I feel like this has a very clinical tone because of that. Hopefully I've tagged everything appropriately.
> 
> This is a fill for an anonymous prompt from the Hydra Trash Meme.
> 
> The prompt:
> 
> Winter Soldier gets everything he needs from his handlers, all he has to do is complete his mission. Food, clothes, showers, sex: they're all things that are given/done to him pre, post and during missions. He never questions it, like he never questions the mission.
> 
> Once Pierce is dead and Hydra's gone underground, the Winter Soldier saves Steve and goes on his way, but quickly realizes he's unable to keep himself alive, too used to being dependent on his handlers. So after visiting the Smithsonian and learning about his old life, he goes looking for Steve again. Hydra used to be all he knew, but now he knows Steve, and the two quickly become linked in his mind.
> 
> Of course, when Bucky shows up at his door, Steve is wildly happy. Wants to take care of him, give him everything Bucky might need or want: food, a hot bath, fresh clothes. But then suddenly Bucky grabs the vaseline and starts fingering himself? And when Steve talks to him it's like Bucky doesn't even hear the words, just keeps going?
> 
> Up to filler how this ends, but I just wanna see a Winter Soldier who got his personhood taken from him to the point where he sees rape as just a random part of his routine, has no more emotions related to it than he does to changing his clothes.


End file.
